


fire in our bellies and furtive little feelings

by sarahyyy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends With Benefits, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Public Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire sucks in a deep breath, and says in a rush, “I’m talking about this thing where you use me for sex.” </p><p>Enjolras’ gaze snaps right back to him. “<i>Use you for sex</i>? Who told you that I was using you for sex?” </p><p>Grantaire lets out a frustrated sigh. “You did,” he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fire in our bellies and furtive little feelings

It starts, strangely enough, at a Les Amis meeting. 

He’s just wrapped up his not-quite-a-speech about how wrong Enjolras is and sat back down on his seat, when Enjolras says, voice terse, “Can I speak to you alone for a moment?”

Grantaire blinks at him. “Now?” he asks, and wonders if he’s finally pushed Enjolras to his limit, and is now getting kicked out of the meeting. Shame. He was looking forward to getting drinks with Joly and Bossuet after. 

Joly must be thinking the same, because he says, “Can’t it wait till after?” 

“No,” Enjolras says, not looking away from Grantaire. “I need to speak with you now.”

Grantaire shrugs and stands up. He waits for Enjolras to start walking towards the back room of the Musain before he follows. 

“Killing people is a crime, Enjolras!” Bahorel calls out after them, and Enjolras must be quite angry at Grantaire, because he doesn’t even bother to turn back to roll his eyes at Bahorel.

Grantaire has only a spare moment to think about how he’s going to try to talk himself out of this mess without actually having to apologise to Enjolras before Enjolras pushes him against the door, and then kisses him.

“What the fuck?” Grantaire manages to breathe out, the second his mouth is free. 

Enjolras trails his lips down Grantaire’s jaw, then his neck, and doesn’t reply. 

“No, seriously,” Grantaire pants. “What the fuck?”

Enjolras looks up at him, the annoyance at having to pause written all over his face, and says, “You made a good point.” And then, as if he’s not already turning Grantaire’s brain into mush, he goes down on his knees before Grantaire. “I enjoy it when you make good points.”

Grantaire lets out a gurgle, because _Enjolras is undoing his fly_. “So,” he says, and tries to find enough brain power to say words. “This is positive reinforcement?”

Enjolras shrugs, and the curve of his lips is positively _wicked_. “Sure. We can call it that,” he says, and then takes Grantaire into his mouth.

Grantaire gets off in an embarrassingly short amount of time, and he’s seriously considering that he’s hallucinating when Enjolras kisses him again, with too much tongue and too much teeth, and says, “Come home with me after the meeting.”

—

It progresses from there, and nothing’s really changed except for the fact that Grantaire starts having regular sex with Enjolras. 

Very regular sex.

So much sex it’s almost unreal, to be honest. 

On Monday, Enjolras texts Grantaire to meet him at the library to go over an assignment they have to do for one of their politics paper, which is odd and makes Grantaire’s stomach flutter at the idea of it possibly being a date. An hour into the study session, Enjolras calls for a break, and ends up giving Grantaire a hand job. In the library. Where anyone could catch them. 

He drags Enjolras to the bathroom after, and reciprocates on his knees. Enjolras asks breathlessly if he could come on Grantaire’s face, and Grantaire goes hard in his jeans again, even as he’s nodding as vehemently as he can with Enjolras’ cock in his mouth. He fucks Enjolras’ thighs after, in the cramp library bathroom, and comes when Enjolras asks him to.

On Tuesday, Combeferre conducts the Les Amis meeting, like he usually does on Tuesdays, and Enjolras spends half the meeting sucking on a pen and driving Grantaire half mad with lust. They linger behind as everyone clears out of the Musain after the meeting, and end up rutting against each other until they come in their pants in the back room of the Musain. 

He follows Enjolras home that night, as is now becoming a routine, and fucks Enjolras with his fingers until he begs to come.

On Wednesday, Enjolras spends their 8 a.m. politics lecture sitting at the back row with Grantaire, instead of being front and centre as he always is, with Grantaire’s cock in his hand. He strokes Grantaire once every time the lecturer says something dubious, and when Grantaire grips Enjolras’ thigh tightly and tells him that he’s about to come, Enjolras just leans down and takes Grantaire into his mouth, letting Grantaire finish in his mouth. 

“So we don’t have to worry about the mess,” he tells Grantaire, his smile amused, and then looks around to make sure that no-one is looking in their direction before he tugs Grantaire in for a kiss. 

He bites his lips when Grantaire returns the favour in the same fashion, and comes when Grantaire abandons listening to the lecture in favour of telling Enjolras how gorgeous he is. 

On Thursday, Enjolras asks him out for lunch, and Grantaire gets that fluttery feeling again. Enjolras drags him to the uni cafe for lunch, and spends half the time just _looking_ at Grantaire as Grantaire prattles on about an upcoming art assignment that he’s excited about. And fuck, Grantaire’s never had anyone who wanted him so much before. 

“My place is just five minutes away,” he offers, and Enjolras waits for him to finish his BLT sub before he practically hauls him across the table to kiss him hard. 

Someone wolf-whistles, but Enjolras doesn’t ease up, just keeps kissing Grantaire as thoroughly as he can, until the need for air separates them. 

“Your _mouth_ ,” Enjolras breathes out, and it’s as good a hint as any, so Grantaire rims Enjolras when he gets him back to his apartment, and wrangles out two orgasms from Enjolras just with his mouth.

On Friday, Enjolras has a migraine, and is quieter than he normally is in their lecture. The lecturer, who is a grade A asshole, and Grantaire isn’t even being bias here, keeps calling on Enjolras to answer his questions, so Grantaire starts volunteering to answer the lecturer’s questions before he can call out Enjolras’ name instead for the remainder of the lecture, because he hates the way Enjolras looks so uncomfortable as he struggles to formulate a good answer for the lecturer. 

Enjolras keeps Grantaire in his seat as everyone clears out of the lecture hall after the lecture is over, and climbs into Grantaire’s lap, kisses him as he grinds down on Grantaire until Grantaire comes, gasping into Enjolras’ mouth. 

He takes Enjolras to his apartment after, and makes Enjolras sleep his migraine off. Enjolras relents, but only after he manages to get Grantaire naked and into bed with him.

“Are you feeling better now?” Grantaire asks, when Enjolras wakes up from his nap. 

“I will be soon,” Enjolras says, and kisses his way down to Grantaire’s cock.

He gets the revelation right about that point — Enjolras is using him for sex.

—

Now that he knows what Enjolras is doing, he loses the fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever Enjolras texts him to ask if he’s doing anything, which is for the better, he supposes, because he was coming pretty close into thinking that Enjolras liked him for more than his enthusiasm in giving Enjolras orgasm. But knowing that Enjolras is using him for sex doesn’t make him like Enjolras any less, which in turn makes him hate himself a little bit more, and that becomes a new problem in its entirety.

He still gets moments, mostly when he’s got a post-coital Enjolras snuggled up against him, warm and pliant in his arms, when he finds himself fraught with feelings for Enjolras. He’s never been pretty good at filtering his thoughts post-sex, so on occasions, he finds himself saying sentimental things to Enjolras, like _you’re gorgeous_ and _I love you like this_ and _I wish we could just stay here like this_ , and every single time, without fail, Enjolras will try to distract him from his feelings by kissing him, or something of the sort.

And Grantaire gets it, he really does. It doesn’t get any clearer than this, as far as hints go. He gets that Enjolras is only in it for the sex, and that he’s trying to remind Grantaire of the fact, and Grantaire really is trying to control himself, he is, but it’s just impossible to sometimes, especially when Enjolras is smiling, or when Enjolras is looking at him all soft and fond, or when Enjolras is gasping _please, Grantaire, I need you_ against his skin as Grantaire fucks him. He can feel his feelings leaking out of him, and it’s got to be so obvious by now, and if it gets any worse, Enjolras is probably going to have to talk to him about it, and Grantaire probably can’t bear that sort of humiliation.

Point is, it’s becoming more of a problem than he thought it would be, having sex with Enjolras.

—

He doesn’t really stop having sex with Enjolras, though. 

Quite the contrary, to be honest, especially when it comes to midterms and Enjolras is pretty content to keep Grantaire in his bed. 

“We’re studying for the same exams,” Enjolras says, nosing at Grantaire jaw. “It makes sense for us to study together.”

Grantaire wants to cry a little because Enjolras isn’t even trying to pretend he isn’t keeping Grantaire here to use him as a pick-me-up when he gets tired of studying. He’s never wanted to study together with Grantaire before this whole thing started. Hadn’t he once said that Grantaire was too disruptive to have around when he’s studying? 

“Naked in bed?” he asks.

“Are you complaining?” Enjolras asks, arching an eyebrow. 

And that’s the worst thing, isn’t it? That he isn’t even complaining, because fuck, sex with Enjolras is great, physical intimacy with Enjolras is great. He loves that Enjolras is so free with his touch, loves how Enjolras drapes himself all across his body, loves that Enjolras has a thing for kissing him. 

“Not really, no,” he replies, a few beats too late, but Enjolras doesn’t even notice, just goes back to flipping through his notes as he mindlessly drags his fingers over Grantaire’s side. 

“Okay,” Enjolras says after awhile, pulling away from Grantaire. “I need an incentive to focus.”

Grantaire barely manages to suppress his mournful sigh, because he can think of a really good incentive for Enjolras to study, and he’s apparently too irrational to keep his mouth shut. “If you get through three chapters without getting distracted, I’ll let you fuck me?” he says, and watches with the saddest sense of pleasure as Enjolras’ eyes go dark with arousal. 

—

The most maddening thing is that Enjolras isn’t even being consistent about keeping Grantaire’s feelings completely away from the sex they’re having. 

Yes, sure, he mostly tries to steer Grantaire away from his feelings, like that one time-

Enjolras’d came so hard that he was left laughing breathlessly up at the ceiling, and Grantaire, in a moment of emotional vulnerability, had brushed Enjolras’ hair away from his face, drew his thumb gently over the curve of his cheekbones, and said, “I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of seeing you like this.”

And Enjolras’ face had done a _thing_ , and before Grantaire even had the time to try to figure out what the expression on Enjolras’ face was, Enjolras had had him on his back. 

“I’m going to wake you up with a blow job tomorrow,” Enjolras said then, which was the worst attempt at a segue ever, and he hopes that Enjolras was at least ashamed of himself for that one, because he’s supposed to be good with words and even better at improvs. _I’m going to wake you up with a blow job tomorrow_ , what the ever-loving fuck? 

But instead of pushing Enjolras away from him and saving the remnants of his dignity, all Grantaire had done was to just curl his fingers over the back of Enjolras’ neck and tugged him down for a kiss. 

And another time, Grantaire’d asked Enjolras, when he was loose-limbed and draped across Grantaire’s chest, “Good?” 

Enjolras’d hummed, a satisfied, low noise that rumbled through his chest. “It’s always good with you, you know that,” he’d saids, fingertips tracing soft circles on Grantaire’s side. 

And that would’ve almost been a sweet thing to hear, if Grantaire hadn’t known that Enjolras meant it as _I’m having regular sex with you because I haven’t found anyone better to have it with yet_ , which does wonders for Grantaire’s ego, really, except that he’d really rather Enjolras be sleeping with him for other reasons, reasons that have more to do with the heart than his sexual prowess.

Which will never happen, and Grantaire is a fool for all his wishful thinking. 

The point is, that was fine, those times were fine, Grantaire is all about having Enjolras steer him away from his feelings, because if Enjolras doesn’t, sometimes he forgets that he isn’t allowed to be in love with Enjolras, only that’s not all Enjolras does. 

Sometimes, Enjolras _misleads_ him.

Like that one time where he’d clutched at Grantaire, and said, “I want to keep you inside me forever.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Apollo,” Grantaire’d replied, but he hadn’t moved away from Enjolras, just curled his fingers over Enjolras’ hip and settled against him like that. 

“Forever,” Enjolras’d repeated sleepily then, and it’d almost sounded like he’d meant it.

And Grantaire isn’t okay with that, doesn’t think he could do this if there aren’t any strict rules to it, if he isn’t sure what he is and what he isn’t allowed to feel.

—

Come to think of it, he doesn’t think he should do this at all.

—

He means to talk to Enjolras about it, to tell Enjolras, politely, that he can’t do this anymore, and swiftly extricate himself from Enjolras’ life, but Enjolras opens the door to his apartment when Grantaire rings the bell, erection tenting the sweatpants hanging loosely off his hips (which means that the sweatpants most probably belong to Grantaire, and this is also a thing because people who are just having casual sex with each other don’t wear each other’s clothes), and greets him with, “Christ, I’ve been fingering myself for the past half hour. What took you so long?”

Grantaire’s brain maybe shorts out a little at that, but it’s a reasonable reaction to the situation, so he doesn’t think it’s necessary to feel embarrassed at his lack of self-control when Enjolras tugs him in by the lapels of his coat and kisses him, in that sloppy way that Grantaire loves because it means that Enjolras is already at the edge and aching for release. 

“C’mon,” Enjolras mumbles against Grantaire’s lips, and pulls him in, shuts the door behind him, and tugs him by the wrist into Enjolras’ bedroom. 

“Enjolras,” Grantaire starts, and he really needs to say something before Enjolras gets naked, because he has no immunity against a naked Enjolras. “I need to talk to you-”

Enjolras takes off his pants. 

“Fucking Christ,” Grantaire groans, and tries to tell himself that he should shut his eyes, only his eyes seem to disagree, because naked Enjolras is never something that he’s going to get tired of looking at. 

“C’mon,” Enjolras says again, as he gets comfortable in bed. “You don’t even have to prep me, I’m ready for you. More than ready. R, I really, really need you to fuck me right now.” 

“Fucking fuck,” Grantaire says, and then starts taking off his clothes, loving the way it makes Enjolras shiver and spread his legs. 

One last fuck. 

Grantaire can do one last fuck.

—

“So,” Grantaire says, after. “I meant it when I said that I needed to talk to you.”

Enjolras nods against his shoulder. “Yeah, okay, you can talk now,” he tells Grantaire, and then presses a kiss to his shoulder. And another. And then another. “I’m listening, I promise,” he pauses to tell Grantaire, and then goes back to peppering Grantaire’s shoulder with kisses, and Grantaire- 

Grantaire can’t do this anymore; it’s masochistic. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Grantaire says, voice firm. 

Enjolras looks up at him, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

Having Enjolras looking right into his eyes makes this conversation a lot harder than it already is. “You know what I mean,” he tells Enjolras, determined to get it all out this time, because Enjolras keeps _misleading_ him by being so soft and affectionate after sex, and there’s really only so much of it that Grantaire can take.

“I genuinely don’t,” Enjolras says, and something in Grantaire’s face must clue him in on the severity of this conversation, because he pulls away from Grantaire, and sits up. “Talk to me, Grantaire.”

“I’m _trying_ to,” Grantaire snaps, and then sighs. “Can you- Can you just not look at me for a minute?” 

Enjolras quirks an eyebrow, but dutifully looks away from Grantaire. 

Grantaire sucks in a deep breath, and says in a rush, “I’m talking about this thing where you use me for sex.” 

Enjolras’ gaze snaps right back to him. “ _Use you for sex_? Who told you that I was using you for sex?” 

Grantaire lets out a frustrated sigh. “You did,” he says. 

“I have _never_ ,” Enjolras grits out. “When have I ever-”

Grantaire shakes his head and holds out a hand to interrupt Enjolras. “It’s not- You didn’t actually say it, you would never be so crass. It’s a subtle thing in how you act. I can… I know how to read between the lines.” 

“Obviously you don’t,” Enjolras says, and he sounds angry, for some reason that Grantaire cannot figure out. Did he really think that Grantaire just wouldn’t notice that he was using him for sex? Was it supposed to be a secret? Is that what all the post-sex affection served as, a red herring for Grantaire? “What have I ever done to make you think that I was using you for sex?”

Grantaire rub a hand over his face. He probably should have expected Enjolras to make this difficult. After all, if Grantaire stops having sex with him, he’d have to actively find a replacement for Grantaire. 

“You keep… _deflecting_ ,” Grantaire finally says, “whenever I bring up anything that even remotely related to how I feel about you. You kept trying to distract me from my feelings with sex, and that was fine, like I was really fine with it in the beginning, I thought that I would be really okay with having you close but not really _having_ you, but it’s starting to hurt, and you’ve got to know by now that it’s not really casual sex for me, because I’m kind of stupidly in love with you, and I’m just going to keep getting more stupidly in love with you, and when you eventually find someone else, it’s going to wreck me, so.” He shrugs, and tries to blink away the sting in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s- Yeah.” 

Enjolras is gaping at him. 

Grantaire waits for him to say something, but he doesn’t, just gapes at Grantaire, and anytime now, Grantaire is probably going to start crying, so it’s probably a better idea for him to leave. 

“I should go,” he tells Enjolras, and then moves to get off the bed, but is stopped by Enjolras’ fingers circling his wrist, grip tight. “Enjolras, please-”

“Look at me, Grantaire,” Enjolras says, voice quiet. 

Grantaire shakes his head. “Can you not make this difficult for the both of us?”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says. “Please.” 

Grantaire steels himself and turns back to look at Enjolras. 

“Will you tell me again?” Enjolras asks.

“What?” Grantaire blinks at him. “That I love you?”

Enjolras nods, earnest, and Grantaire hates him so fucking much.

“I love you. I am in love with you. I’ve loved you since forever,” he says, trying for flippant but missing it by a mile. “Can I leave now?” 

Enjolras tugs him in, and kisses him, in that exact way he always does when he’s trying to get Grantaire to stop being sentimental, to stop _feeling_ things, and Grantaire kisses back, because he’s been fucking conditioned to kissing Enjolras back when he kisses like this, deep and fierce and passionate. 

“This is how I say it,” Enjolras whispers into the space between their lips when they part. “I’m not comfortable with saying the words,” he tells Grantaire, “so this is how I say it. This is how I say ‘ _I love you_ ’.”

Grantaire stutters on a breath, and Enjolras cups his cheeks, gentle and careful, and starts pressing the tiniest of kisses to his lips, the way he’s wont to do whenever he’s tired. 

“‘ _I adore you_ ’,” he says, punctuating the last of the kisses. 

He presses his face to Grantaire’s neck and breathes in deeply. “‘ _I’m so glad you’re here_ ’,” he says. 

Terminology. 

Enjolras is teaching Grantaire what he means when he touches Grantaire, kisses Grantaire, and Grantaire—

Grantaire is floored. 

“I-” he starts to say, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Enjolras just stretches up to kiss him again, and that is just as well, because Grantaire isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say, what he _can_ say.

“I love you,” Enjolras says, and swallows. He wasn’t lying to Grantaire; he really does look uncomfortable saying it, but Grantaire has known Enjolras for years now, and Enjolras never says anything he doesn’t mean. “I’m sorry,” he adds, when Grantaire doesn’t say anything. “I should have realised that something was wrong. I should have realised that you’d want to hear it. I didn’t know that you didn’t know. I thought- I thought it was obvious. I should have said something. I’m sorry. I’ll try to say it more often now.”

“Don’t,” Grantaire says, and wants to hit himself when Enjolras’ face falls and he starts to look stricken. “I mean, it’s not necessary. Not now that I know. I just-” Words aren’t coming to him right now. “Kiss me again,” he settles for saying, eventually. 

Enjolras does, tugging Grantaire close against him and sinking back into bed. “I love you,” he says again, when he lets Grantaire go, and he doesn’t even look like he’s constipated when he says it this time, which is probably improvement.

“You don’t have to keep saying it,” Grantaire says quietly, even though he’s really glad that Enjolras is, because it’s the only thing that’s convincing him that he isn’t dreaming. He doesn’t think he could make up that expression on Enjolras’ face after he says _I love you_ even if he tried. “I mean it.”

Enjolras shakes his head. “It’s important to you,” he says firmly. “And that’s more important to me than avoiding any discomfort.” 

“Fuck,” Grantaire says, and lets Enjolras curl around his body. Enjolras’ arms tighten around his waist, and Grantaire can feel Enjolras smile against his skin. 

“Enjolras?” he says, after a few minutes of quiet.

“Hmm?” Enjolras hums. 

“I’m going to wake you up with a blow job tomorrow,” he says softly, and grins up at the ceiling when it makes Enjolras laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Title are from Frank Turner's "I Knew Prufrock Before He Got Famous".
> 
> I'm [here on Tumblr](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com/), come say hi!


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